The Wizard Chronicles, Vol 1: Changes
by Durza II
Summary: Hi. I'm Harry Dresden and I'm a professional wizard. I'm in the yellow pages. I have a cat, a dog, a demonic brother and a warlock apprentice. My life hasn't been the best, but I manage to get by. Things are ... predictable. I do NOT however like Change.
1. Chapter 1

**There was a knock at the door.**

**I looked up from my book with a frown. I wasn't expecting anyone. I put my bookmark in place, put the book aside, rose from my couch and went to the fireplace. Hung at my eye level was a traditional African mask, a Fang mask of the Beti-Pahuin people who inhabit the rain forest regions of central Africa. I lifted the mask off its hook, turned toward the door and put it in front of my face. What I saw through the eye holes wasn't the normal living room of my apartment. The mask had been a gift from a client a couple of years previously, a witch-doctor whose tribe was to be found somewhere within Equatorial Guinea. It had already been endowed with traditional shaman magic but I decided to add my own enchantments to it. Now the mask, along with the spirit that inhabited it, was the guardian of my apartment, tied in to all of its defences. It helped that its natural ability was overlooking the mundane and revealing anything hidden. I could see lines and streams of power that ran in, out, over, under and through my apartment. This was my network of wards which not only encased my apartment but every building within a block of it. It had taken years to lay this network of wards but it was worth the effort. Once my apartment had been attacked by an army of zombies and my neighbours, most of whom were elderly, had been at serious risk. As a wizard who has managed to piss of a horde of powerful beings the least I could do was make sure that when I am attacked I don't put innocent bystanders at risk. And you might think it slightly repetitive and annoying to have to look through the mask every time there was someone at the door but believe me it was worth the hassle. I'd had more than my share of nasty surprises, usually in the form of unwelcome and murderous visitors. Besides, seeing as I have pissed of quite a collection of people there are very few people who would actually come to my front door voluntarily. Of those few people, I had given the ones I trust a talisman, a sort of key, which would allow them to pass my wards unharmed.**

**It was Monica Sells. **

**I blinked at that unexpected surprise. It had been thirteen years since I had last seen her at her home in suburban Chicago. Back then she had been toting a hundred-thousand volt taser and trying to shock me away. I have that general effect on everyone I meet so I didn't hold it against her.**** She was looking good. I guess not having to worry about your warlock husband sacrificing your kids to gain more power will do that to one's health. I looked past Monica and extended my senses to the very limits of my defences. There was nothing else out there. I put the mask back in its place above the fire place, just above the traditional animal skin Zulu shield. A five foot long Ngoni spear was propped next to the mask as well. I had gone all out on my defences. There was no way in hell I was going to relive that zombie experience ever again. My front door had been banged up so bad it had taken me years to get the money and time to have it fixed. Unfortunately being a professional wizard doesn't pay as much as I would have desired.**

**I went back to my couch, picked up my book and pretended to read. With my right hand I gestured toward the door and it opened slowly. As you will learn in the wizarding industry it is all about appearances. That and the last time I had seen Monica she hadn't been impressed by my mundane approach to the profession. She had expected more candles and shadows and mystery. As a gentleman the least I could do was oblige.**

"**Hello?" Monica said from just outside my door.**

**I didn't reply. After a few seconds she took a couple of hesitant steps into the apartment. Well, at least now I knew she was the real Monica. No supernatural being could have entered my apartment without my permission. They wouldn't have been able to get past the threshold, the spiritual barrier that existed on the entrance of every home. While my apartment wasn't a permanent residence and I lived on my own, a true chronic bachelor, I had been living there for a very long time and had come to call the place home. My threshold wasn't as strong as what you would find on a family home, for example, but it was still something to contend with. **

**I didn't look up.**

"**Welcome, Mrs. Sells," I said. Monica started and looked at me in the gloom of my apartment. Another thing I had learnt from the zombie incident; don't keep the windows and curtains open. It was only then that I put my book down and looked up at Monica. I stood up and walked up to her. As I came closer to her I gestured again with a hand and the door closed behind her. She started and looked behind before looking back at me. It was only from up this close that I could see the crow's feet around her eyes and the emerging lines on her face. For all that she still looked hot, though, and to spice things up she still had the body of a woman a decade younger. I pecked her gently on both cheeks before stepping back.**

"**Would you like something to drink or eat?" I asked. Who said I couldn't be the perfect host? One demon-invaded dinner and everyone starts stereotyping you. Bah!**

"**Um … I … Yes, a drink, thank you." Monica was still a bit disorientated, which although I hated to do was necessary. We hadn't been enemies but neither had we been friends. And although she had moved with her kids all the way to California she had made the long journey across numerous states to see me. Something was up and I would rather she was kept on the back foot so to speak. It would make getting answers that much easier. **

**After I directed her to a seat I went into my small kitchen and got us both coke cans. I had the forethought to actually pour them into glasses before I took them back to the living room. See? I can be a good host. I sat down opposite her and sipped my drink. I didn't say a word; more world-class interrogation techniques from your friendly neighbourhood wizard. Monica sipped her drink and looked around my apartment. She got up after a few seconds and walked around. My apartment isn't that big so she didn't walk much, but she did spend a good five minutes looking at all the artefacts I had managed to fit into it. She ended up at my umbrella rack where I had stuffed the two Swords of the Cross I was safekeeping. The swords, a katana and a longsword, were made with, as the name suggested, a nail from the original crucifix at the base of the blades. There were three swords in total, with a nail in each blade. The bearers of the swords were called Knights of the Cross, and their main job was to fight the Order of the Blackened Denarius, hereafter nicknamed the Nickelheads (again by yours truly). Feel the bite of my rapier wit. **

**The Order of the Blackened Denarius was comprised of thirty silver denarii (Jesus**** Christ, the crucifix, three nails, thirty pieces of silver, starting to ring a bell?) and into each individual denarius was sealed one of the Fallen. The Fallen were angels who had decided that Lucifer had it right and that such high and mighty beings that the angels were shouldn't be there to serve humanity, God's supposedly greatest creation. Despite being raised an orphan I think I can detect the subtle hints of sibling rivalry in that frame of thought. Even after two thousand odd years the nails in the blades were covered in flecks of brownish-red blood. Something told me no matter how much you cleaned them the blood wouldn't come off. That's symbolism for you. The supernatural world was filled with it. I had long since developed a theory that if the blood of Christ was somehow washed from the nails and the blades, the swords would lose their power. A good way to do that, apparently, was bathing the swords in the blood of an innocent. But that was another story that I'm not completely guilty and responsible for.**

"**The longsword is glowing," Monica said hesitantly.**

"**Yeah, it's been doing that a lot lately," I said. "I wish it would hurry up and just chose already."**

"**Choose?" Monica said as she finally came back to sit down.**

"**It's next wielder," I explained. "It's one of the Swords of the Cross."**

"**You mean those are real?"**

"**You've heard of them?" I asked surprised.**

"**Yeah, I was talking to a wizard in California who mentioned them. Do they actually contain a nail from the original crucifix?"**

"**Yep," I answered. That's me, the master of dialogue.**

**Monica went quiet again for a minute before she spoke up. "It was actually this wizard who sent me to you, Mister Dresden."**

**I frowned. "Warden Ramirez?"**

"**Elaine Mallory."**

**I blinked. It had been a while since I had last seen Elaine. Elaine had been an orphan like me. Like me she had been adopted by Justin DuMorne. Justin had trained her to be a war mage-slash-assassin, like me. Unlike me she had fallen prey to him and had been enthralled, magically bound to do his bidding. To make a long story short I had killed Justin and had gone for a long time thinking I had killed Elaine too. Elaine and I now ran an organisation known as the Paranet – Paranormal Network (see, I'm really good at picking names) – which helped less talented practitioners deal with supernatural threats. There were thousands of them within the country and for a long time they had had to suffer in silence while the White Council mostly ignored their pleas for help. As you can probably guess it pissed off a gentleman such as me and I had used some reparation money to start up the network. Now the network covered the whole of North America and most of South America, and it had so far managed to stop a couple of werewolves and an Aztec demigod. All in all, things were going well.**

"**You know her," Monica said.**

"**Yeah, I do," I replied and I left it at that. The less anyone knew about Elaine's relationship with me, the safer she was. Seeing as she had also been Justin's apprentice the White Council would almost definitely kill her on sight, especially since we were in the middle of a war and they had gotten harsher with their sentencing, if that was even possible.**

"**Mister Dresden, I am afraid that I have a rather big problem."**

**Monica was shaking badly. I frowned. She had always been a strong woman, capable of making cold hearted decisions if she thought it best for her kids. What could have gotten her like this?**

"**What's wrong, Monica?" I asked.**

"**My husband is back from the dead," Monica answered.**

**I blinked. Again.**

**Oh, boy. I could feel a headache coming on.**

"**How do you know?" I asked.**

"**My son has been having dreams about him," Monica explained suddenly losing all her calm. "For the past year he has been dreaming about Victor. At first I thought it was only nightmares but then it started getting worse. Things started blowing up or levitating every time he had the dreams. I thought he had come into his powers but when I went to Elaine to have him checked out Elaine said the boy had no powers. I took my daughter as well. Neither of them had any power. My son, Billy, said that in the dream he saw his father rise from the ground in a strange coffin. After that it was he said nothing was clear but he just got a sense of pain and suffering and foreboding. Elaine said she couldn't look into his mind because it would break one of the Laws but she said there was definitely some kind of psychic link tapping into his mind."**

**I looked at her for few more seconds and tried to gather my thoughts. What she had described … it seemed familiar somehow. But it was impossible. There was no way to bring back the dead. But I didn't say that out loud. Monica had enough problems without me refusing to believe her story.**

"**I'll look into it," I said.**

"**Oh thank you, Harry!" Monica said dropping her former formality. She reached into her purse and took out a thick envelope. Kerching! Hey, a wizard's still got to pay the bills somehow. "Do whatever you have to do, Harry."**

"**I understand," I replied gently. I knew from experience that there was no one more protective than a mother.**

"**Thank you," Monica said again.**

**I stood up and went to Monica's side. "I will do everything I can to make sure you and your family are safe."**

"**I know." Monica looked up at me and the silence between us stretched for a few seconds too long. I suddenly realised we were having a moment. It took all my self control not to back paddle. Monica was feeling vulnerable. And she was my client. This could not happen. My body, which hadn't had the pleasure of enjoying a woman in three years, not since Captain Luccio, fought vigorously for its conjugal rights. My brain ruthlessly subdued it. I stood up slowly, bringing Monica up with me.**

"**How did you get here?" I asked. That effectively ruined the mood but at least we both had our dignities intact.**

"**I flew," she replied, taking her hands out of mine and brushing back her hair out of her face. She bent down and picked up her purse. "I'll be in town for a few days, in case you need me. I'm staying at the Madison hotel, room 415." I tried to ignore the connotations in the sentence but my body had a dream and by God it was going to fight for it.**

"**Where are your kids?" I asked trying to side track myself.**

"**They are staying at a friend's in the Gold Coast. I hired someone to get them there safely and inconspicuously. Until this whole situation is solved I want them safe."**

"**Good decision. Very well, then, I'll get started right away."**

**I walked her to the door and showed her out. My body didn't turn its dream into reality then but it sure got some concessions; I must have stared at Monica's ass for five seconds before I forced myself back inside the safety of my house. I sighed. I really needed to get myself a girlfriend. Or better yet a good roll in the hay.**

"**Focus, Harry," I said out loud. I heard a soft growl from a corner and looked up to see Mouse regarding me steadily. Mouse and I had been on 24/7 bodyguard duty for a client for a whole week and he'd had to use his Temple Dog powers three times. He had managed to stay awake for most of those seven days and was therefore understandably tired, grumpy and cranky. I held up both palms in a conciliatory gesture.**

"**Sorry, buddy, I'll keep it down," I whispered.**

**Mouse flicked an**** ear as if to say, "You better," before his head dropped back onto his front paws like a rock. He was snoring in seconds. I ran my hands through my hair and exhaled forcefully. First order of business; find out how to bring someone back from the dead.**


	2. Chapter 2

"**It's impossible," Bob said.**

"**I didn't come here to hear what's impossible, Bob," I said as I flipped through a book. "I came here to hear some answers."**

"**Well too bad, boss, that's the only answer I can give you," Bob replied. "It is impossible to bring back the dead. Resurrection is a myth that only one person in recorded history has ever managed to turn into reality, and even then he had to get his daddy to help him out."**

"**You've already got Mab on the list of people pissed off at you and gunning for you. I don't think you should get the Big Man Himself onto it too."**

"**Hey, I'm just stating facts," Bob said nonchalantly but even so I noticed his eye-lights shifting around nervously from the corner of my eye. Bob was a Spirit of Air and Intelligence. Remember the saying that Knowledge is Power? Bob was a prime example of that. With each nugget of information gained he grew more powerful, and after two thousand odd years he was a being to be reckoned with. He might not seem like it most of the time due to the fact that he was imprisoned in an old bleached white skull that was engraved with runes and sigils on the inside. I never did find out how he came to be imprisoned, but whatever the reason Bob wasn't complaining. While in the skull he couldn't be tracked down by his numerous powerful enemies, among them the Queen of the Winter Sídhe, a being that was on par with the Archangels themselves.**

"**But didn't the kid's description seem familiar to you?" I asked. "Coffin from the ground…" I muttered to myself. I closed the book I had been reading, put it aside and picked up a new one. There was something I was missing. A faint memory tugged at my attention but it was too vague to make out.**

"**Psychic link or not, resurrection is impossible Harry," Bob said again. "There must be another explanation. I mean by your own account the Shadowman's body was never actually found. He could have survived and gone to ground."**

"**Which would make finding him all the more urgent," I said. "He bears a lot of grudges toward his family and me, after all."**

"**Wrong," Bob said. "Breaking the psychic link is the most urgent course of action, followed by hiding Monica and her kids so thoroughly that not even Laelaps could find them. Please take my advice this one Harry and leave this situation alone. If the Shadowman is still alive then he has had thirteen years to get stronger and plot his revenge. And don't lose significance of the number thirteen, Harry. It's a magically powerful number."**

"**I have had thirteen years to get more powerful, too, Bob, and unlike him I have had more motivation to do. There is a war going on, after all."**

"**But do you remember how the Shadowman was already powerful, if unschooled, right at the beginning? He was performing magic even you hadn't thought of, and you were trained by DuMorne and me. Someone was helping him; someone gave him those grimoires you saw at his house. And if he survived the fire then those same people might have been training him. And after everything that's happened these past few years you know who those people are."**

"**The Black Council," I said softly.**

"**Precisely," Bob said. I had never heard him sound so serious. "And not only is the Black Council full of powerful wizards, wizards who would give the Senior Council a run for their money, but it is also well connected and funded. One of them, Cowl, even survived a magical thermonuclear blast. Every time you have gone up against them you have only survived by sheer dumb luck. And if you pursue Victor Sells, who after all these years will have become a powerful and skilled wizard all on his own, the Black Council might decide you're more useful to them dead than alive. Think and **_**act smart**_**, Harry."**

"**You know how Victor Sells was resurrected," I realised as I looked at Bob's skull.**

"**Harry, please," Bob actually begged. "Leave this one alone. For once take a page from my book and follow your self-preservation instinct."**

"**Tell me," I ordered Bob impassively. **

**I didn't want to show it but Bob's concern for my well-being had touched me. You see Bob has no free will, which is one of the reasons why he isn't bothered by being imprisoned in the skull. Every time free will comes up he literally shudders. I think it's because with free will comes freedom of choice and morality, and if there is one thing Bob doesn't understand and does not wish to, it is making moral decisions. He likes being neutral and only caring for his own survival. But I had noticed that over the past decade or so Bob had become more and more attached to me and had come not only to understand all the moral decisions I make but to also anticipate them. And right now he knew what I was going to do, no matter what, which is why he had tried to lie to me.**

" … _**Tensei**_** …" Bob grunted as if the words were being forced out of him, which in truth they were. He was a slave to whoever owned him and had to obey a direct order. I tried not to order him around and instead tried to get him to help voluntarily. I guess it was my own way of teaching him about the finer aspects of free will and morality.**

**I slapped my head and wondered how I could have been so stupid. "Of course!" I exclaimed. "**_**Tensei**_**!"**

**I ran to one of the shelves in my lab and took out a long scroll from its cubbyhole. I went to my table and slowly unfurled it. It was quite old and very fragile. I stopped when I was near the end. It was there, the drawing of a wizard with palms together as if in prayer. In front of him was a dark purple circle in the ground, a portal, and a half emerged coffin could be seen rising from it. Because the scroll and its contents were Japanese, the coffin was Japanese style. It's what had confused me. When I had heard coffin I had automatically thought of the western style of coffins. This coffin was very different in design and make, being ceramic and very bulky.**

"_**Edo Tensei**_**," I muttered. It was Japanese. It meant "Impure World Resurrection". **_**Tensei**_**, which was Japanese for "Resurrection", was used by those in the know in magical circles to refer to Necromancy and Resurrection spells and rituals. It was necromancy, and of the worst kind too. While normal necromancy only reanimated the corpse of the deceased human, making it into a zombie, a mindless tool, Edo Tensei went one step further. First of all to bring back someone to life a human sacrifice was required. This human sacrifice's soul was used in an exchange process to trade for the intended resurrection's soul. The sacrifice's physical body would be taken and used to help manufacture the body of the person being resurrected. Ash and sand would surround the sacrifice's body, signifying their part in the resurrection as over. Second of all the user of **_**Edo**__**Tensei**_** would create a portal in the ground and a coffin would rise up from the portal in an upright position. Once the coffin was fully out the portal would disappear. Thirdly the coffin's top would fall off, revealing the body of the person being brought back to life. The body of that person would be slightly decayed and they would be like a normal zombie. After this the user of **_**Edo**__**Tensei**_** would take out an athame with a rectangular tag attached to the pommel. They would inject this athame into the head of the resurrected body. This served two purposes. The first purpose would be to restore the body to peak physical condition and make it immortal. The second purpose was to restore the soul and attach it to the physical world, the "Impure World" and thereby give the resurrected person their memories and identity back. Edo Tensei was as black as magic went, however, and since you can't perform magic you don't believe in only warlocks ever used the ritual. Because of this there was a third step usually associated with Edo Tensei and that was to rip the resurrected soul of its free will and bind its will to that of the user of the ritual. This made the resurrected person the perfect weapon, especially if that person had once been a wizard. Edo Tensei was the perfect resurrection and anyone brought back by it not only possessed their original powers but they were nigh immortal and invincible. Only removing their soul from their new body would kill them. They were the perfect tool. Edo Tensei was extremely dark magic, breaking three of the seven Laws of Magic, four if you were being technical, which the White Council always was.**

"**Woah," I breathed. "This is heavy stuff."**

"**Harry, please!" Bob said. "**_**Edo**__**Tensei**_** not only requires human sacrifices but there is no limit to how many sacrifices can be used to bring back one person. Ten souls could be used to bring back one soul from the dead, which would increase that resurrected soul's power twenty times! On top of that dark magic like that requires an absolute socio-and-psychopath! It requires an inordinate amount of skill and innate power! Whoever can actually master that ritual is powerful enough to be nominated for the Senior Council by default! Harry, despite that whole episode with the demon in your head and your subconscious-slash-evil-twin you are nowhere near powerful enough to go up against the resurrected Shadowman, never mind who resurrected him!"**

"**I have to agree with Bob, my Lord."**

**I looked up and saw a woman of average height with long dark and wavy hair. She wore a traditional Greek toga of purest white and sandals. From her voluptuous figure it was painfully obvious she was wearing nothing underneath. I kept my attention focused resolutely on her face. This was Lasciel, or rather the shadow of Lasciel, or rather … this is going to be a long explanation.**

**Lasciel is a Fallen Angel and a member of the Order of the Blackened Denarius. A few years ago I saved one of my friend's children from picking up the coin that imprisoned Lasciel, which would have effectively guaranteed that little Harry Carpenter grew up into a powerful psychopath bound to the will of a demon. Not good, right? I picked up the coin instead of little Harry (thanks to my asshole of a subconscious) which was all the permission Lasciel needed to enter my mind and leave a photocopy of herself until such a time as I was ready to pick up her coin and accept her completely. For three years, which was apparently the longest anyone had resisted the temptations of any one of the Fallen, I refused to pick up the coin and constantly tried to make the photocopy see that she was an independent being who was free to make her own choices, helped by my bastard of a subconscious. In retrospect it was the least he could do after giving me the impulse to pick up the coin in the first place. I gave the photocopy a separate name, Lash, to help me better differentiate the photocopy from the original and in doing so gave her an identity and in the end she came round. She gave up her life in order to save me from a psychic blast. I had thought that was the end for her, but it turns out she hadn't been killed, just extremely damaged. For a long time she had been siphoning my power in order to reconstruct herself, and again with the help of my bastard of a subconscious. I was beginning to see a pattern in his behaviour but I hadn't really had the time or inclination to confront him about it. And yes, I realise I would be in effect talking to myself. I never claimed to be sane. Anyway when she was fully healed something weird happened, something I still hadn't figured out how it could have happened; Lash was able to finally exist outside my mind and manifest physically. It had been the strangest thing ever and I'd spent a whole week thinking I was hallucinating. Finally she had managed to gain a corporeal form and talk some sense into me. To that day not even Bob knew what she had become. She was certainly not a demon anymore. If she had been Lasciel's sigil would have reappeared on my left palm. But whatever it is she had become she had sworn herself into my service, much like Toot and the other fairies that formed the Za Guard, my own personal army. **

**Pretty cool, huh?**

"**I may have helped you gain a lot of power, my Lord, but against such foes it would be foolhardy to think you're an even match."**

"**Thank you!" Bob ejaculated.**

"**But there are ways to even the odds," Lash went on.**

"**W-What?" Bob stuttered, his eye-lights growing bigger in surprise. "Now wait a minute here!"**

"**Sir Virosidum!" Lash reprimanded Bob in an iron tongue. "You have known Lord Dresden since he was nine years old. He is now forty-five! You have been with him through thick and thin. Surely you trust him to be able to handle any information and knowledge he desires and choose the right course of action!"**

**Bob and Lash stared each other out, and despite the fact that he didn't possess any eyelids or eye**_**balls**_** which needed to be moistened regularly, Bob blinked first.**

"**Very well," he sighed in a resigned tone. "But mark my words, this won't end well. Of all the wizards in history there are only three I know of that have possessed enough willpower and magical strength to be able to use the Edo Tensei ritual. And every time it took the might of the whole White Council, whether they were Wardens or not, to stop them. An army of nigh immortal and invincible soldiers is a lot to contend with."**

"**Kemmler," I said.**

"**Yes," Bob, a.k.a Sir Virosidum before he was imprisoned within the skull, said. "He was the last wizard to master that ritual and by far the most dangerous. He had never cared about keeping the magical world secret from mortals but luck was on the White Council's side. They managed to use the confusion he had thought to manipulate against him."**

"**World War Two," I said. "No one would notice a dozen unexplained deaths, especially not in mainland Europe."**

"**Try two hundred dozen," Bob said.**

"**That's twenty-four hundred people murdered!" I said aghast.**

"**And that's just the number of people he used in creating his final army. There were a lot more deaths before that."**

**I frowned and tapped the table idly, thinking. There was something… I blinked and straightened in my chair. "Kemmler. He was in league with Hitler, wasn't he?"**

**Bob snorted. "That's one of the reasons I like you above all my other previous masters; your ability to be dense and extremely intelligent at the same time."**

"**Thanks," I smiled. "I try my best."**

**Bob snorted again, which really was a feat for someone without a nose, nasal passages, nasal cavities, nor the ability to breathe. But then again he was an Air elemental. Maybe that explained it.**

"**Kemmler wasn't in league with Hitler so much as Hitler's sponsor."**

"**That would mean he was trying to cover up his tracks," I said with furrowed brows. "But you already said he didn't care much for secrecy. He sounds like your run-of-the-mill world domination type. Why would he need to hide himself by helping create such a devastating war? Unless…" I closed my eyes and berated myself for not having thought of it sooner. "Kemmler knew about the Black Council," I whispered. "He knew about it and he feared it. And for someone like him to know true fear…"**

"**It means what you have encountered of the Black Council is just the tip of the iceberg," Lash said finishing my thought. "And it also means that the Black Council conspiracy goes much deeper than you had previously thought. I myself only knew of them when you did, and although my demon-sister was inactive for many years before Nicodemus gave you her coin, I know for a fact the Order of the Blackened Denarius did not know of them up until just after you did. Nothing much escapes the Fallen, my Lord. You have powerful enemies indeed."**

"**The story of my life," I muttered miserably. "But that's a discussion for another time. Right now we need to concentrate on Victor Sells. Bob, can you tell me how Edo Tensei works exactly?"**

"**Better yet, I can show you." Then Bob did something that up until then I had thought impossible. He left his skull without my permission, his master. But I had grown to trust Bob. Rather than react instinctively and violently, I simply sat still and watched the luminous cloud filled with twinkling clouds that was Bob's form come and settle over my body. I can't describe what I saw, which is probably why Bob, a veritable wordsmith, couldn't himself. All I can say is that I saw a rush of images, heard a cacophony of sounds and felt and sensed a horde of emotions and undercurrents of power. The whole thing happened at the speed of thought, which is to say only a few seconds passed in the real world. When Bob was finished relaying the information he lifted off my head and then another strange thing happened. He snapped back into his skull like someone who'd stretched a rubber band as far as it could go and now it was contracting, taking him back with it. The skull rocked on its shelf. Bob groaned.**

"**Ouch," he said. "Migraine." His eye-lights had dimmed considerably. Being a spirit of intellect, I guess parting with information cost him something, especially in his much weaker imprisoned form.**

"**Um, Bob, what was that just now?" I asked.**

"**Edo Tensei," he replied in a "duh" tone of voice. He would be fine, then.**

"**No, I meant the whole leaving-the-skull-without-my-permission thing," I said in the same tone of voice. Who says I ain't down with the kids? Dawg.**

"**Oh, I thought you knew. My number one priority is to serve my master's best interests. So long as I am acting in that regard I can do anything, so long as it's within my power, including leaving the skull."**

"**So if you decided leaving the skull, inhabiting my body against my will and going out to see what getting laid feels like was in my best interests, you could?"**

**Bob actually managed to chuckle and his eye-lights brightened for a few seconds. "First of all I am not capable of such twisted moralistic decision making, and thank the stars for that. Second of all my imprisonment doesn't work like that. I can't just do what I want as long as logic dictates I am serving my master. It wouldn't have been much of an imprisonment, would it now Harry?" I took the sarcasm as a sign that Bob would definitely be fine. "I am an Air Elemental, Harry. Restricting my movements is the greatest punishment you can inflict on me and my kind. No, I can only act independent of permission from my master in such a way if, for instance, my master is in danger and incapable of giving me an order that might otherwise save his life. It's a grey area and one you should be glad for. Your life may depend on it one day."**

"**What you did just now," I said, "it wasn't exactly necessary. You could have asked for permission. You were testing out how tight the bonds are and how much latitude you have to act. You also did it to make a point. I'm guessing you're not supposed to tell your master just how much power you have and needed to communicate it to me somehow, especially now that my list of enemies has taken a turn for the much, **_**much**_** worse."**

"**Like I said, Harry, you can be extremely intelligent when you want to be." Bob's eye-lights flickered before dying out.**

"**But why aren't you allowed to tell me?" I asked but Bob was gone. He wouldn't wake for at least a day or two.**

"**That is not important for now," Lash said as she came to stand beside me. I looked up at her. "Right now you need to track down the Shadowman without attracting attention to yourself. You need to make sure Monica Sells and her children are safe. You need to make sure the Shadowman stays dead this time and find out who he is in league with, although I think we can both agree that that figure Cowl is somehow involved. And you know what else you must do."**

**I sighed and looked down. I started to carefully roll up the scroll. "I need to make the White Council publicly acknowledge the existence of the Black Council. Their ignorance and bull-headedness will be their downfall if I don't."**

"**I will help you any way I can," Lash said. "Excuse me, my Lord. There are some things I need to take care of." And with that farewell Lash left. She just disappeared. I knew it wasn't teleportation because my apartment was warded against it. I shook my head. I had business to take care of. I looked down at the table and the envelope Monica had left me. Ten thousand dollars in crisp new bills.**

**One thing I had always loved about Monica; she paid really, **_**really**_**, well.**


	3. Chapter 3

**The first orde****r of business was to track down Victor Sells. Now tracking is one of my fortes. I can find virtually anything I wish, and over the past three years, with Lash's tutelage, I have become a master. You see, wizards possess something called the Sight. The Sight gives a wizard the power to strip away all illusions and look at Reality, and yes that is with a capital "R". When employing the Sight a wizard can see anything he or she is looking at exactly as it is. You can see what it was and what it will be. You can see its very essence. It is a powerful tool, but it is imperative to realise the more powerful the tool the greater the risk. Anything you see with the Sight is engraved on your mind for all eternity. The memory will never fade no matter how much time has passed. Every time you think back to it, it will come back as fresh as if you were witnessing it for the first time. The good, the bad, and the downright ugly. Most wizards only use their Sight a handful of times because using the Sight too much will eventually lead to insanity. The human mind wasn't meant to deal with the Truth. Jack Nicholson's well known exclamation, "You can't handle the truth!" comes to mind. **

**But like with all wizard powers there are deeper and more advanced levels to the Sight for those brave enough and motivated enough to find them.**** One of my talents was discovering what was hidden. It came with the whole private investigator gig, or maybe the whole private investigator gig was a result of that inner talent. I try not to think too much on these mystical conundrums. My sanity is in question already without adding unnecessary philosophical questions. At any rate my talent had manifested magically in my Sight. By magnifying that talent with my Sight, I could literally find anything in all of creation. But remember what I said about power and risks? Well, this power came with its own warning label. To track using my Sight required me to take down my mind's natural defences and believe me that isn't something you should do without some critical thinking first. There are a lot of things that will take such an opportunity to take residence in your mind and almost every one of them falls on the demonic side of the good/bad spectrum. But this was my greatest chance. I had a few markers I could call in but I didn't want to do that. For one thing if someone in the magical community owes you a favour you shouldn't be in a hurry to use it. Magical beings take such debts seriously and they will go to any lengths to repay them, even if it costs them their life. Another thing was that I was up against a dangerous foe. Chances were very few beings could actually find the Shadowman and live to tell the tale. Endangering lives for something I could do was just wrong. Besides, the enemy already knew of and about me. I was already an established threat and enemy. It was the same old dance, them attacking and me just barely managing to survive. Besides, if my methods failed then I could in good conscience use whatever other methods were available. Sometimes morality isn't about doing the right thing; it's having a clear conscience whilst picking the best decision out of a bunch of bad ones.**

**I sat down inside a circle. It would help protect my mind from invaders while I was gone. Well, I say gone. It's difficult to explain. On one hand I was absent from my body but in another sense I was fully aware. The deeper I delved into this power the less I became aware of my body and the more I existed as, not quite spirit, but something **_**other**_**. I let out a breath and opened my mind and my Sight. I should explain that the actual act of finding something with the Sight isn't that difficult. But I was dealing with the Black Council here. They were pretty powerful beings at the best of times, more skilled and knowledgeable than most of the wizards on the White Council. And because they weren't hindered by the Laws of Magic they could do a whole load more stuff than any normal wizard. Because of this there was a reasonable chance that they had set up wards against being found magically that would be triggered by my spirit search. I had to tread extremely carefully. I visualised Victor's son and in a heartbeat I was there beside him. Looking at him with my Sight I could see a ravaged, raped and torn soul. I could also see the psychic link attached to Billy Sells. The Shadowman was using his son's soul, his own flesh and blood, to sustain him. …No, it was more than that. He was sucking the very life out of Billy, using it to better establish himself in this plane of existence. He was also stealing Billy's own power and taking it for his own. With a rush of dread I realised what Victor was doing. **_**Edo**__**Tensei**_** had revived him but had left him a slave. By taking the essence of someone alive and someone who shared in his blood and power, he was effectively breaking the enthrallment. He was trying to get free.**

**I resisted the temptation to act as my own anger rose. How could someone sacrifice a child, let alone their own son? Being an orphan this whole family thing deeply affected me. No matter my feelings, though, I didn't let them interfere with my work. That was one thing Lash had been able to instil in me; iron-like self-control. I didn't touch the psychic link. I simply analysed it. I needed to be sure that I wouldn't cause harm to Billy by using it to track Victor. I also needed to be sure by using it I wouldn't alert whoever was at the other end. It was delicate work. Thank the stars that I had an apprentice who was extremely sensitive to magic and needed a master who could teach her subtler aspects of it. And thank the stars for her that I had both the motivation and an ex-Fallen Angel to speed up my own mastery of such magic. Three years might not be a lot of time for a wizard to master his magic but when that learning was happening at the speed of thought … four-to-seven hours per night, while I slept… Well, it added up. It didn't do much to increase the potency of my magic. That is something that can only be accomplished by time and experience. But like I have said numerous times, knowledge is power, and for a wizard that could not be truer. Wizards have walked out of confrontations with older, more powerful and much more experienced beings due to possessing the right knowledge and a little planning. I am a prime example of this. You wouldn't believe some of the scraps I have come out off on top. It was one of the reasons the White Council still feared me. Every time they thought they had gauged the level of my power I surprised them by accomplishing something they thought me incapable of.**

**I spent my time analysing the psychic link. There were several traps, which were quite obvious. Being a wizard who had had to survive confrontations on pure sneakiness more than once, I instantly knew that there had to be traps beneath the traps. "Look underneath the underneath" to quote my mentor. And like I said, finding things was my talent. Every wizard has one specific talent. Captain Luccio's talent – the leader of the White Council's military/police force – was forging magical blades that never dulled, never broke and could break just about any enchantment in existence. As far as talents went, it was quite useful. Unfortunately she lost that ability when her body was taken over by a necromancer known as Corpsetaker. And thanks to yours truly she couldn't return to that body ever again. She was stuck in another body and therefore couldn't make those swords anymore. A lot of the new Wardens who could have otherwise been saved by possessing such a weapon were dead because of my decision. It had been either that, though, or allow an enemy of the White Council to take possession of a powerful person's identity. In the grand scheme of things, I made the right choice. It just didn't feel like it, however, when I had to watch children face vampires and literally get torn from limb to limb. Morality is having a clear conscience as you act on a decision. I can't remember the last time I had one.**

**I followed the link tentatively, taking good care to take note of my surroundings. While I had Lash back, she was now her own being. She couldn't take residence in my head; just create a telepathic link that accomplished almost the same thing. I couldn't afford to be lax. Besides, I was an investigator. This was right down my alley. There's a great thing to be said about magic; at the end of the day, it still has to deal with physics. And as every child is taught, the shortest distance between two objects is a straight line. Forging the psychic link by routing through different checkpoints would have cost a lot more energy than a direct link. Besides, these people were operating under the assumption that no one knew what was going on. That kind of sense of security often makes people careless. And in this case it worked to my advantage. After a short span of time, in which I followed the link in and out of the Nevernever a dozen or so times, I finally came upon what appeared to be to my Sight one of the foulest places on the planet. There were a lot of things I Saw in such a short span of time that I couldn't comprehend. And remember what I said about how what you See always stays with you? And how the human mind wasn't meant to deal with Reality? Well, I could distantly feel a migraine coming on. The thing most apprentice wizards don't realise is that the Sight is addictive. You have to learn to use it sparingly, no matter how well you feel, because if you don't you will never regain full consciousness. For a wizard my age I had used my Sight quite a lot and almost everything I had Seen still gave me nightmares. Sometimes I wondered how much my poor mind could take. Not a lot more, to be honest. Everyone has their limits. But those were musings for another time. I concentrated on the present and tried to cut out the unnecessary sensory information. My only concern was the psychic link.**

**I followed it into the fortress, for the place was clearly a fortress. While there were numerous lines of transient power in and around the place, the building itself contained the deep, steady thrumming power only found in buildings that have stood for a long time. I was nearly destroyed then and there. I stopped myself entering the fortress at the last second. I had been so intent on not interfering with the psychic link that I forgot the fortress itself would be heavily warded. It was almost definitely warded on the same scale as the Hidden Halls of Edinburgh, the White Council's headquarters. And I was under no illusion. No mater my own level of skill and power, I was nowhere near good enough to slip past the Hidden Halls' wards. I would get my mind and soul friend and die a quick and painful death … if I was lucky. I tried not to get frustrated and instead tried to think of another plan. I couldn't confirm the Shadowman's existence. At this moment it was an extremely big hunch. I couldn't take that to the Council. They would need absolute and solid proof before they admitted that there was a conspiracy against the White Council, and even then they might decide to destroy the evidence and keep it quiet. As I'd learned last time I went up against the Council, the appearance of strength was often more important than actual strength. If the wizards on the Council knew of an alternative wizarding body to join, one that allowed them full use of their powers … the White Council would probably lose at least a third of its members. The Senior Council wouldn't and couldn't allow that. They would only face the threat of the Black Council when they were in a position of power, both figuratively and literally. Considering there might be numerous traitors within the White Council – some of them highly placed – that was almost guaranteed never to happen. This is why I needed to launch a surprise attack on the Black Council and tear away their shroud of secrecy that made them so much more dangerous than any other foe the White Council had ever faced. You cannot fight an enemy you cannot see, after all. Metaphorically speaking, that is. Sight was probably the most unreliable sense in actual magical combat.**

**As I hovered over the fortress I suddenly sensed a presence nearby. An insanely strong presence. A presence I had felt once before. A presence whose true form was ingrained into my mind, thanks to the Sight. I don't know where the thought came from, but once it was there in my mind I grabbed onto it like a starving man to a scrap of food. I quickly repositioned myself before the presence became aware of me and then as it started to broaden its senses I came like the bull in a china shop I was known to be, my presence as obvious as daylight.**

"_**There you are!"**_** I shouted, my thoughts reverberating all around.**

**The Skinwalker I had nicknamed Shagnasty – I think I should turn this whole naming thing into a profession, I'd make a killing in the advertising game – turned toward me like hound with a scent.**

"_**Wizard!"**_** it hissed. **_**"You should not have come here. Now you must die."**_

"_**So this is your little hidey-hole,"**_** I said, radiating scorn and rage. "**_**Quaint, but it's nothing! Just like you are nothing!"**_

"_**You know not whereof you speak, child,"**_** the Skinwalker said. **_**"Your ignorance has grown even more profound and painful. It shall be your downfall."**_

**As the Skinwalker started moving toward me I pointed at it, my stance formal. **_**"I challenge thee, Fallen Beast!"**_** I roared.**

**The Skinwalker halted its movement. I was not looking directly at it – the last thing I needed was another look at its true form – but I sensed it make a gesture of bemusement and amusement.**

"_**Dost thou challenge me, pretender-to-power?"**_** it asked. **_**"I would destroy you in a heartbeat."**_

"_**You killed my friends, endangered lives I am sworn to protect and most of all tried to kill me. That is an insult that shall not be borne. I challenge you to a duel, Fallen One**__**, under the UnSeelie Accords. I demand satisfaction! Will you accept or have you completely lost all spine and honour?"**_

**Shagnasty bristled and it became harder not to gaze at him with my Sight. His presence, which had only been a fraction of his whole self, magnified.**

"_**I**__** am not signed onto the Cold One's Accords but for you I shall make an exception. I cannot allow a child to question my power and authority, especially not after my d- my retreat from that accursed island. You pretenders need to be taught a lesson. You are nothing! Very well, little mage, I accept your challenge. Name your duelling ground and duelling terms."**_

"_**The duelling ground will be the island you nearly had my apprentice killed on. There are no limitations to weaponry. I want to savour your death."**_

**Shagnasty laughed heartily. **_**"Foolish child! Very well, I agree. On mine power do I swear it. A week hence we shall battle. Now leave, little mage, before your presence is noticed by less indulgent beings."**_

"_**A week hence, Shagnasty, I will kill you."**_

**With a last wave of scorn I high-tailed it out of there and back to the safety of my mind and body. A wave of exhaustion hit me but compared to most of my forays it was nothing and I easily pushed it aside. That confrontation had gone better than I had anticipated. For the umpteenth time I thanked my lucky stars that almost every ancient power had backwards ideals when it came to honour. But as far as improvised plans went it was a good one. What had Shagnasty been doing around a possible Black Council fortress? The last time I had encountered him the only side he was on was his. It was pretty obvious he held wizards in low regard if not outright contempt and disgust. There were many possible reasons as to why he had been in that part of the neighbourhood but only two highly probable ones; he was either there for the Black Council or there because of the Black Council. I could easily believe he was there for something or someone. He had hounded Morgan, a former Warden and personal tormentor of mine who had been accused of being a traitor by the White Council, with the tenacity of a true predator. It was entirely possible that he was on another hunt. After all one way skinwalkers increased their power was by devouring others'. But it was also probable that he was there on behalf of the Black Council, which would mean that he had joined their ranks. With Shagnasty's superiority complex I would have thought it unlikely but it the idea had certain symmetry. After all, the Black Council had shown an aptitude for messing with ancient powers and manipulating them for their own ends. From Faerie Queens to Denarians, I had seen it all. **

**I filed these musings under the "pursue later" pile as I was just in time to see my whole lab get infused by a soft amber colour that was emanating from the walls. It was my early warning system. Something was approaching my apartment, and whatever it was it was powerful.**

"**There is no rest for the wicked," I muttered as I closed my mind's defences, broke out of my circle and headed upstairs to my apartment.**

**What could top challenging a Skinwalker to mortal combat?**


	4. Chapter 4

**"My Lord."**

**I took the Fang mask off the wall and turned round to face Lash. She was looking as delectable as usual, and the intense expression on her face only made her more appealing. I took tight reign of my visceral response to such beauty. The thoughts had been, while not acceptable, more … allowable back when Lash had been the photocopy of the Fallen Angel Lasciel, residing in the distant recesses of my brain and trying to tempt me to join the Dark Side. Now, however, Lash was literally her own being. She had a corporeal form and was free to act as she saw fit. Why she had decided to be bonded to me, a troublesome young wizard, I have no idea. But I certainly wasn't complaining. It was thanks to her that I had managed to accelerate my learning of the deeper secrets of magical and historical lore. She was my teacher, in essence. And teacher-pupil romantic relationships of any kind were a bad idea. There are prime examples of this; Molly and I; Morgan and Luccio. **

**In truth I did not know if Lash's new form was capable of such things. I knew she could love. She had once been an angel and they were about as loving as you could get, wit****h the exception of three other Beings, as my friend and former Knight of the Cross Michael would say. As a Fallen Angel she knew hatred on a macrocosmic scale, and you can't truly hate without knowing love. She now had a physical body, a human body, courtesy of the power she had used to revive herself; my mortal magic. That meant that she had the capability to feel emotions such as love and experience sensations such as pleasure. I had tried my best to integrate her into her new form but there are some things that you just can't teach. The bottom line was that she was a teacher, a trusted vassal and a very good friend. I couldn't allow anything to destroy that relationship. Part of me wondered why I'd had sex on the brain so much recently. My hormones kicked that part until it was lying unconscious in some dark and deserted alley in my mind. I imagined I briefly heard a battle cry. "Conjugal rights, here we come!"**

**I know, I know. I have deep psychological issues.**

**"I don't suppose you will listen if I order you not to call me lord?" I asked tiredly. The spirit search had taken a lot out of me. I put the Fang mask in front of me and mentally asked my home's guardian to show me the source of the threat. Just at the edge of my wards and early warning system there were a set of presences that took me a moment to identify. I removed the mask from in front of my face and looked at Lash. Her intense expression had softened and she was looking at me with a soft smile.**

**"I am afraid not, my lord." She paused and her smile changed slightly. I titled my head as I looked at her. "Harry, you saved me. You saved a Fallen Angel. I am no longer a demon. I might not be an angel again but I do not mind, and to be truthful even if I had the opportunity I would not take it. I turned away from my Father, Harry. I know He has already forgiven me – He was always quite lenient and kind, despite how the Old Testament paints Him – but I have not forgiven myself. I am not ready to face Him yet. In the meanwhile, you have accomplished something never before even conceived. You have altered the balance between good and evil without even trying. You were simply being kind. And in doing so you saved a Fallen Angel. True, I was only a copy and the real Lasciel remains Fallen From Grace, but I was what she is. I chose freedom, Harry. I chose to honour my Father's wishes and serve humankind so that it too can find its way back to Grace, even if it is one mortal at a time. And I choose to serve you, too, Harry, although I regret to say you must come second to my Father. You are a good man who has the unfortunate luck of always finding himself in bad situations. It has been so since you were born. And despite the power you wield you have resisted the temptation to wreak vengeance upon those who hurt you. You might not believe it but trust me Harry; you are a saint in the making. You have resisted the call of darkness better and longer than almost any other mortal. Because of that the Dark Prince will have to move against you and me both the moment he learns of what happened. We are detrimental to what he stands for, to his cause. Another bad situation in the making, and all because of me. The least I can do is make sure you survive. You care. You follow your calling. You use your powers as they were meant to be, to protect and help the human tribe. A true Druid. I respect you greatly. I … I love you, Harry."**

**Ooooh boy. This wasn't exactly what I had expected. This was the most she had said to me about her personal feelings. Ever. After her "resurrection" we'd simply been too busy to do anything but work; training me, teaching Molly, Warden duties, my private investigator business, helping SI and Murphy with their trickier cases, coordinating the Paranet in times of immense danger, which had been more and more frequent, and, of course, carrying out errands for the Grey Council. With all that I hadn't even had time to have a whole day to myself and just relax. Maybe that's why I had sex on the brain. I needed something to drain away all the tension in my body.**

**I slowly walked forward until I was standing in front of Lash. She blinked and her pupils dilated slightly. I reached up with both hands and cusped her face gently. I gave her a small peck on the lips. My hormones were either a reasonable foe or they were distracted by some plot to take over my conscience because they didn't cause a ruckus and misinterpret the action. I stepped back from Lash.**

**"Thank you," I said softly. "It is always good to know you have friends."**

**"Um…" Lash seemed lost for words and so she said nothing. She gave me a short and sharp bow before she disappeared without a hint of magical power or any other sign. I looked at the spot she had been standing on for a few more seconds before I went into the corridor that led to my one bedroom. At the end, instead of going into the bedroom, I faced the wall. I laid my right palm on it and exerted some willpower. The wall shimmered before disappearing, revealing the doorway to the pocket dimension I had created in the Nevernever. It was relatively small and inconspicuous, a room about as big as my living room, otherwise it would attract Faerie attention. Or worse. This room served as my training room and armoury. I didn't stop to sightsee and instead just grabbed a pair of gloves from a table in a corner. The left one was red and the right one white. They were made of leather, thin but tough. They were also one of my many magical foci. I had enchanted them to focus and amplify my normal spellcraft. A neopagan circumscribed pentagram was tattooed on the backs of the gloves; white on the red glove and red on the white glove. I put them on as I left the room and by the time I closed the portal I was back in my living room.**

**I gathered my will and raised my left hand, the hand that sensed and drew in energy. I gathered up every idle piece of energy in the whole apartment that was a remnant of magic and drew it into my body. I then bent down, drew aside a third hand Persian rug to reveal the stone floor and grounded all the energy I had drawn in. It was the equivalent of wiping fingerprints. I had previously never even thought it possible until I had seen Denarians do it. My home was now a magically clean place. There were now no energies to hint at what magic had been performed in the apartment. The next thing I did was to engage in breathing exercises. I needed to be completely calm and I needed my infamous temper under control. The entirety of the Senior Council was virtually at my doorstep, after all, and we really didn't get along. There were a lot of points of contention, the most recent being their decision to murder an innocent and dedicated man for the sake of simple political expediency. After that particular episode my contention with them had become public knowledge within the Council. Captain Luccio had somehow managed to find a way to keep me away from the Senior Council. That's why they paid her the big bucks, I guess. She had to make those big and insightful decisions.**

**And now the entirety of the Senior Council was within a block of my apartment. Whatever the reason, I'm sure it didn't bode well. Whether or not they were dropping in I had to find out why they were in Chicago. The Senior Council rarely met outside of formal Council meetings, and when they did they had a whole squad or two of the best and most powerful Wardens. For them to travel without any kind of guard and together meant that something major had to be happening; it also meant that they wanted to cut out the rest of the Council from the loop and were acting in secrecy. At the moment the only thing that was worrying the White Council was the war with the Red Court of vampires. Whatever was going on was likely to do with that. And considering that Chicago was the only place in the whole world that was declared neutral ground by both the White Council and the Red Court, it was therefore the safest place to conduct talks. I knew there had probably been about a dozen or so talks in Chicago since the war started, even though I didn't know exactly when and where. That kind of information had been restricted a select few number of people, and I would never qualify into such a group. I retrieved my shoulder holster from where I'd dropped it when I came in last night and put it on, followed by my jacket and duster. It had taken some time to get used to the shoulder holster. The guns kept poking into my sides and the whole rig felt restrictive. But eventually the fresh leather had flexed, allowing me back my usual range of movement. The guns had been, surprisingly, Bob's idea. I mean he wasn't some backwards spirit who knew nothing of the modern world, but when it came to solutions his tended to be a bit more arcane than mundane. More boom and less bang, so to speak.**

**Both guns were custom made. I borrowed heavily from the Mateba Autorevolver and the Schofield Revolver in designing them. The barrels and general design of the guns resembled a 6 o'clock aligned Mateba Unica 6, with 93/4 inch barrels. This improved the range and accuracy of the shot, and seeing as I always went against supernatural enemies who could shoot the wings off a fly at 50 yards with no practise whatsoever, I would need all the advantages I could get. The mechanisms were reminiscent of a Schofield Revolver with their top break loading/unloading manner and the double action. The cylinders held thirteen bullets, which had been my own little addition after my conversation with Murphy where I found out semi-automatics could hold up to twenty bullets, if not more. I had been practising a lot and having Lash help really did wonders for my aim, but the guns were mainly for dealing with supernatural enemies. If thirteen bullets couldn't do it then odds were more wouldn't do much to help. Everything about the guns was antique. I had made sure all the metal, especially for the mechanisms, were made from the old parts of other guns. The older the technology was, the better it got along with magic. One revolver was silver and one was matte black. They both fired .454 Casull rounds but I had added a little surprise to the black one. It fired explosive shells which contained specially made cordite. This special cordite contained a few ingredients known to be harmful to a general selection of supernatural beings, and to top it off the cordite was mixed in holy water before being dried, giving it a little extra kick. Seeing as the bullets themselves were half cold iron and half blessed silver I was reasonably sure I could stop your average rampaging troll or vampire. The guns ended up being quite heavy, though, but they were worth the trouble. **

**Getting a licence for them plus a licence to carry a concealed weapon had been surprisingly easy. I should have done it earlier. I had simply appealed to the Venatori Umbrorum, an organisation aware of the supernatural community and using everything in its power to protect humanity. They had been a real asset in the war against the Red Court. After finding out I was a Warden the Venatori, made up of powerful public figures, used their influence and before you know it I was a legally allowed to tote weaponry. Apparently such courtesy was extended to all Wardens. Why no one had told me this before I could only guess.**** And I know what you're thinking. **_**When did Harry Dresden become such a weapons buff?**_** The truth is I haven't and never will. I'll never understand people like Murphy and Thomas who are always cleaning their weapons and doting on them like the children they never had but when you're making anything with magic involved it was the smart wizard who did background research before he attempted anything that usually survived the process.**

**Before I left I put on my glasses. They were reflective circular shaped wraparound glasses, kind of like the ones worn by the character Father in that**_**Avengers**_**movie starring Ralph Fiennes. Through a little trickery I could see in perfect colour while no light bothered my eyes. I had been developing bad headaches as the parts of my brain that Lash had redirected a psychic blast to healed. The fact that she was siphoning my power to heal herself had not helped. After she had completely healed herself I had started getting headaches every time my eyes got exposed to direct sunlight. It had been a bitch of a problem, made worse by the fact that I had to keep buying tinted glasses because every pair inevitably got damaged during one scuffle or another. I had finally addressed the problem and made a pair sculpted to my face, meaning they were highly unlikely to slip off. The fact that my visibility wasn't hindered by the reflective surface helped.**

**I stood there, debating whether**** or not to take any other weapons. After a second I went to the umbrella rack and picked up my new blasting rod made from elder wood, the same wood as my new staff. It had taken me a long time to find the perfect tree but it had been worth it. Foci were supposed to focus and amplify a wizard's magic. If a wizard found the perfect wood for his staff and blasting rod his spellcraft would be at its most powerful. It had been Lash's advice and had proven quite useful. I strapped the blasting rod to my hip, zipped my jacket and buttoned my duster.**

**I walked out of my apartment and felt the wards sliding over my body. I had gotten better wards, wards that didn't require being deactivated for someone to get in or out. My previous ones had been powerful, if a bit inelegant and far less complex. Now they only allowed in a set of people or beings. If I didn't give you a talisman to let you past, then chances were you'd end up as a greasy spot on the hard concrete.**

**I put my game face on. The Senior Council was in town. The Red Court was probably in town too. A lot of beings would find out this information and try to use it to their advantage. I hated the fact that I had not been told. They were in my city. I deserved to know and help set up a safe place where few people were likely to get hurt. But you didn't get onto the Senior Council by collecting bottle tops. They were all powerful wizards. Hopefully they knew what they were doing. I was only going to watch.**

**Who knows? Maybe the reason they were so close to my apartment was that they were on their way to ask for my assistance. And pigs have been known to fly.**


	5. Chapter 5

**It was a cold autumn day and ****Chicago was living up to its nickname as the Windy City. My duster whipped around my legs and if I hadn't buttoned it I think it would have just been ripped off my body. I thanked my lucky stars that the Senior Council was so close to my apartment. The Blue Beetle, my Volkswagen Beetle that was older than I was, had been at the shop for a little under three months now. It was going through what I could only call heavy renovation. Mike, my mechanic, was working on it whenever he had some spare time, which was mainly at weekends. I had finally managed to get enough money together to repair all the damage the Beetle had suffered over its long and illustrious career. I was proud of my little car. It had done its own amount of ass-kicking, usually running over faeries or some two-bit demons who really should have known better than to mess with the Mighty Beetle. I can tell you one thing, though; taking public transportation is a bitch. Mike refused to say when he would be done. But considering he was doing the job at all I decided not to pester him. The Beetle I have is the original one and it has since been discontinued. To find someone who knows what they're doing with such a machine is a godsend.**

**When I reached the corner I started drawing in power. It was nothing spectacular. I wouldn't even have been able to light a candle with it. As I walked I directed that power to my vocal chords. Softly I started to utter a Name and I could sense the energy behind the words resonating out into the world, both the mundane and into the Nevernever, homing in on the owner of the Name. It was by no means an order, which would be breaking one of the Laws of Magic. Instead it was just a compunction that would grab the attention of the being I was trying to summon. I was also using such a minute energy because I didn't want to attract attention. I often – by which I mean ninety-nine percent of the time – went up against beings much more skilled and powerful magic-wise. Not attracting attention was a good skill to learn for such cases. That way I could sneak up on them and sucker punch them back to wherever they came from. **

**Hey, a guy's gotta do what he can to survive.**

**As I neared upon the Senior Council's position I stopped the Name Calling – huh, never thought I'd ever see that phrase used outside of the playground, let alone as a technical term and for something other than bullying – and drew up a veil around me. Veils were subtle magic. I mean **_**really**_** subtle. They required fine control. For a long time my skill had sucked so bad that I didn't bother with veils at all. It would have been a waste of time, magic, and what's more so much power would be spilling from the veils that they would instantly give away my presence, thereby making the whole concept of a veil redundant. But now I had an apprentice, and what's more her skills lay in subtle magic. She was particularly gifted at veils. And at mind-magic. But seeing as that was illegal I tried not to encourage that skill. I was the master and I had to be able to stand proud in front of my apprentice as I taught her what she needed to know in order to become a first rate wizard. I couldn't do that when I couldn't even accomplish what she could easily do without formal instruction. So I had worked my ass off to gain a passing mastery at veils before I had broached the subject. And then Lash had come back. Molly had wondered at my increasing skill but I put it down to my superior skills. She had laughed in my face. The cheek. Kids ain't got any respect for their elders these days.**

**I first saw the Gatekeeper, which, to be honest, was a bit of a surprise. The Gatekeeper was usually by far the most mysterious and least seen of the Senior Council. He was a slim man, and very tall, taller than me. He was wearing a nondescript black suit, kind of like the ones spies and secret agents are supposed to wear. His turban was attracting the attention of one or two people. Ever since 9/11 Americans had been roughly awakened and as usual woken up tangled inside the blankets, so far on the wrong side of the bed they were on the floor and utterly pissed off about the whole situation and looking for someone else to blame. I wondered what the two rednecks would think if they found out that the man they were probably thinking of assaulting was one of the most powerful wizards in the world and could destroy them with a flick of his hand. Probably nothing. We Americans pride ourselves in not being easily impressed or swayed by such facts. It's the great ignorance. How else do you think we've managed to become the only superpower in the world? And look at the presidents we've had to do it with for Christ's sake; Reagan; Bush; Clinton; the second and much worse Bush. Obama is probably the best thing to happen to America in a while, but even when he was running I had my doubts. I would have voted for Hillary Clinton in a heartbeat. She'd already proved herself to America in the way she handled her husband's indiscretions. A ride or die bitch as Wizard Tyrone had so eloquently put it. I hadn't fully understood the metaphor so maybe I'm really not as down with the kids as I thought. Obama was slick. Maybe a bit too slick. The man seemed to have all the answers. In my life I've come to see that if something seems too good to be true then it probably is. Not only that but I also tend to aim a gun or my blasting rod at it and fire until I get some answers. Call it cynicism if you want. I call it survival.**

**The other Senior Council members were there too. Arthur Langtry, the Merlin and leader of the White Council, was looking as dapper as ever in a grey pinstripe suit. His long silver mane was finely trimmed, giving him a refined look. He was as old school as wizards went. Being several hundred years old and British he embodied the vision of the classical wizard. Too bad he wasn't the nice version, like Dumbledore. He was a politician, a master manipulator who despised being outmanoeuvred, especially by those younger than he. He was a master at defensive magic, particularly wards and even though I hated the guy I had to admit it was largely due to him that a lot of wizards were still alive. It wasn't that he was incompetent or anything. It was just that he was uncaring and looked after his own interests first. Ancient Mai, a Chinese woman of indeterminate age with pure white hair and piercing dark eyes, was wearing traditional – and probably authentic – Imperial Chinese garments; a Zhiju robe of gold patterned with red flowers. Next to her was Wizard Listens-to-Wind, whom my mentor insisted on calling Injun Joe, who was wearing traditional – and again probably authentic – Native American shaman garb over a shirt and jeans. My mentor pretended to be your typical backwards hillbilly when in fact he was one of the more progressive wizards in the White Council and on the Senior Council. The man himself, Ebenezer McCoy, was the only non-formally dressed person there. He was wearing a rolled up chequered red and white shirt, some dungarees with one strap hanging loose and some muddy boots. **

**On top of**** being a Senior Council member McCoy was the Blackstaff, a secret position given to one trustworthy wizard. This position allowed the wizard to break any and all of the Laws of Magic without fear of persecution by the Council. He was my mentor. He had been the same person who told me there was more magic in a child's laugh than in summoning all the fire and wind in the world. He had taught me magic came from life and should be used to maintaining it. Using it to end life or otherwise harm it was a perversion of the worst kind. You cannot perform magic you don't believe in and those three years I was under his direct tutelage I learnt more about being a good person and wizard than actual magic. It had saved me, a lost and confused teenager who'd had his whole world torn asunder. When I find out he was actually the Blackstaff … well, it had been a betrayal not only of my trust but of the very teachings that had shaped my life and helped me become a better person. I had felt very lost. It had taken a long time for us to be reconciled.**

**I idly wondered where Gregori Cristos was. He was the last member of the Senior Council and the most recently appointed. He'd been appointed after threatening the Merlin with seceding from the White Council and taking a whole third of the population with him. He had been Aleron LaFortier's protégé and wizards from the less well represented countries in the Council looked to him to be their voice. The Merlin had had no option but to rig the elections so that Cristos got the nomination. Ebenezer and I shared the thought that Cristos was actually Black Council. The Black Council had not only infiltrated the White Council but the Senior Council too, the body where all the important decisions were made. It had been this infiltration that had forced Ebenezer to create a Grey Council, a body whose only goal was to counter the Black Council's movements and work toward not only exposing but destroying them. My question was answered a few seconds later when Cristos emerged from a side entrance of a building that was apparently closed for renovations. Figures. Everyone in the supernatural community always rented out a building and then declared it unfit to enter to keep out mortals if they wanted to hold a meeting. What surprised me, though, was that the Merlin had chosen a building so close to my apartment. I would have thought he'd have chosen a building as far away from my home as possible, what with my penchant for starting trouble. Cristos was already wearing his robe and the other members of the Senior Council followed suit. Now there were six old men and women holding staffs of varying sizes and make, wearing black robes and purple stoles. You'd think they'd have veiled themselves but you'd be surprised by the lengths humans will go to, to ignore things they do not comprehend. If you'd seen this you'd probably think it was for some convention or for some church or something and simply go on about your business without even blinking.**

**As I watched the Senior Council move into the building I noticed … something. I couldn't describe it. It was like a tingling at the edge of my senses. I just **_**knew**_** that there was something off. I hesitated, thinking. The Senior Council was comprised of the most powerful wizards in the White Council. Surely they would have known if there was any danger about. But my instincts were telling me that the Senior Council was oblivious, and seeing as they had never led me astray I started walking forward, hidden behind by my veil. My veil was one of my subtler ones. It didn't render me invisible to the five senses as much as dulled those senses. I was hidden from notice, basically. Everyone around would treat me as some random stranger that they would barely notice and immediately forget. I was a nondescript person. I had once needed a potion to use this kind of veil but that was a long time ago, back when I had had to deal with way too many werewolves in way too short a period of time. I had met William Borden and the Alphas then, though, so it hadn't been all bad. Thinking about the Alphas brought back memories of Kirby's death. I gritted my teeth and liquid anger filled my body. I would make that skinwalker pay. As thoughts of vengeance filled my mind I caught my reflection in a window. I paused, surprised. I don't keep any mirrors in my apartment because way too many things can use them to attack me. As a result I don't get to see my reflection much. What I saw was … different. **

**I am six feet and six inches tall, lean and solidly built. I lean toward****s the rugged school of handsome, on a good day. My face simply has too many sharp angles and features to be considered classically handsome. With my duster, glasses, gloves, neatly trimmed beard, moustache and recently cut hair I think I looked quite a bit like my evil twin. My evil twin is my nickname for my subconscious, the bastard who's in charge of my survival instincts. He has been known to go behind my back and make deals with demons and so forth all in the name of self-preservation. To top it all off he looked like the American James Bond, all debonair and whatnot. It was hard **_**not**_** to hate him. At that moment in time my face was a stony mask radiating pure hatred. And I liked it. I liked the image. Have I told you how harsh my life has been? A Faerie Queen once told me that I had been brought up in the Winter Sídhe fashion; I had grown up believing the weak got destroyed while the strong prospered, so it was only natural for me to be strong. It was true, but not for the reasons she had had in mind. It's the story of my life, being strong-armed by far superior wizards and beings. I am always out of my depth. To be honest with you I'm surprised I'm still alive. But alive I am, and it is the foolish wizard who doesn't arm himself for future battles. I had sought to better my magical prowess, not so I could lord it over weaker people but to protect those who couldn't. I am a wizard and my powers were meant to protect humanity from the supernatural realm. That is what the Laws of Magic exist for. But more than that I had found my calling. I had traced my bloodline, although I hadn't able to find out the names of my ancestors. I was of old country stock, and by old country I don't mean Middle Ages Europe but pre-invaded Albion. I was of Druid blood. Like Wizard Listens-to-Wind I was of shaman blood. My task was to protect my tribe. Now as a wizard of the White Council who lived in the twenty-first century my tribe was now humanity. It was Ebenezer's influence that triggered this realisation, I think. Finding out where the magic I employed came from – humanity – made me realise that it was only right to use it to help them.**

**I looked in the mirror, steeped knee deep in hatred, and I didn't know whether or not I cared. And that is what frightened me. There have been moments in my life when the temptation to just use my power for my own benefit and screw everyone else has been nigh impossible to resist. The fact that when it happens I'm always at a very low point in my life doesn't help. I looked in the mirror and started breathing in and out slowly. After a minute I calmed down enough to continue walking. I stopped almost instantly. There was a kid looking at me like I was some kind of weirdo, which, to be fair, was a fair assessment. He looked six or seven. After a few more seconds he turned back to a woman I assumed was his mom and held her hand tightly. The whole episode confused me until I realised in the process of calming down I had lost control of my magic and dropped my veil. And that was when it hit me. Veils. That was why the Senior Council hadn't had the same sense of something wrong as I had. They hadn't been veiling like I had. Because of my veil whatever veils were being employed near the building couldn't fully affect me because I was rendering myself unnoticeable. And another thought struck me. The same kind of effect was emanating from the veils being employed by whatever I had sensed. But the Senior Council was full of powerful and skilled wizards. The only reason they wouldn't have sensed anything wrong was if the veils were of perfect quality, tailored for this specific situation. It would take someone with a scary amount of skill to make such a veil. In fact in the whole Council there were only a few wizards who could do it. And I knew no wizard in their right mind would get so close to the Senior Council with the intention of causing harm, even the Black Council. Not only would the outcome of the fight be almost definitely in the Senior Council's favour but the Black Council was a secret organisation. So far the Senior Council refused to acknowledge such a group existed and that was the only thing keeping the Black Council off the radar. So it couldn't be mortal magic. What else could cast such a veil? It couldn't be…**

"**Faeries," I groaned. "I hate Faeries."**

**Even as I said it I saw faint glimmers fifty feet above the building. The veils faltered long enough for me to see what I was dealing with. I groaned again. They were air elementals, Sylphs. And ghouls. Working together. The Sylphs dropped the ghouls they had been holding airborne whilst still managing to hold a veil over themselves and the ghouls. But I had seen enough. I had encountered those particular ghouls only once before. They were from deep in the Nevernever and very big. And they could regenerate. Sylphs were air elementals, and like all elementals not only were they Faeries but they belonged to neither the Winter nor the Summer Court. They weren't wildfae either. They were one of the few Faerie creatures rooted in the mortal realm. And like all such creatures they were slowly dying out. Seeing twenty of them in one place was unprecedented. Only five had been seen in the past two decades alone. They mostly kept to themselves and lived out their lives on mountaintops, mainly in the Himalayas. They did not get involved in anyone's business. So why were they helping some super-ghouls attack the Senior Council?**

**And then another thought occurred to me. Twenty ghouls, super or not, were not enough to even make the Senior Council blink. I had once seen Wizard Listens-to-Wind go toe to toe with a skinwalker – a semi-divine, nigh immortal and super powerful shapeshifter – and send it home crying. Literally. That left one other option. The ghouls and the Sylphs were a distraction. But from what?**

**So instead of going in guns blazing – literally and figuratively – I kept my veil up and went to investigate.**


	6. Chapter 6

**The first thing I ****ran into was a couple of Wardhounds.**

**Wardhounds were constructs, the wizard equivalent of droids, kind of like R2-D2 and C-3PO, only less comedic and much more menacing. They were made out of a dark grey-green stone that was dense from being heavily compacted, giving the Wardhounds that extra oomph. The Wardhounds were nothing but enchanted stone, albeit very powerful enchanted stone and they were built to recognise certain stimuli and patterns and react accordingly. They weren't sentient, not by a long shot. Just like any android in sci-fi they were prone to misjudgement and malfunction, although I have to say that was quite infrequent. The Wardhounds were Ancient Mai's creation, her attempt to make Temple Guardians, Foo Dogs, which would work for the White Council. Foo Dogs were rare and almost always found on holy ground, like the Buddhist temples in Tibet. Real Foo Dogs were extremely intelligent and self-aware, just like any human, although I feel the comparison is rather unfair. **

**On the dogs. **

**Humans are far stupider, in my opinion. I should know. I have a Foo Dog. And don't ask me how I got him. Suffice to say there was a burning building involved. **

**And it wasn't my fault!**

… **Just thought I'd say… **

**Anyway, having a Foo Dog – mine was named Mouse and he was just the cutest and cuddliest thing when not kicking supernatural butt – I knew what the Wardhounds were capable of, and the first thing I was sure of was that their abilities were nowhere near the original Foo Dogs'. You couldn't be evil and think a simple veil would let you past Mouse. His whole breed was specifically bred to detect and fight evil.**** (Although I tend to wonder about that sometimes, seeing as Foo Dogs themselves are sometimes referred to as demons – and nothing out of the Nevernever that's referred to as a demon can be any good.) But these Wardhounds were only as powerful as the attention their creator paid to their creation. And I had seen them in action a couple of times since I became a Warden. They were more along the lines of hammers than scalpels. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together could circumnavigate their intelligence, such as it was. And until such a time as I found someone who fit the profile, I'd have to fill in as best as I could.**

**I upped my veil to one of my best workings and strolled past the Wardhounds. They didn't even twitch. But then again they were stone. Can stone twitch? Hmmm… I think that bears future investigation. I crouched in front of the door but didn't touch it. I half-closed my eyes and slowly reached forward with my senses. It was a good thing I was so careful. One of the most dangerous wards I had ever come across was silently humming a hair's breadth in front of the door. It was just one ward. **_**One**__**freaking**__**ward**_**. And the energy behind it was nearly as much as the wards around my apartment. My respect for the Merlin – he was the only one capable of such a working, and maybe the Gatekeeper – rose a few inches, but seeing as I hated the sanctimonious jerk the raise wasn't that significant. I softly exhaled until my lungs were empty before taking three deep breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth. As I did so I summoned magic, letting it fill my lungs, follow the oxygen and get absorbed into my blood stream. By the third breath I could feel it in my blood vessels throughout my body, increasing my temperature by a half a degree or so. When I fully opened my eyes again I could see a vague misty haze. I stretched out my hand and saw the haze start to roil and blaze ever so brighter. So not only was the ward there to keep out unwanted visitors but it was also an early warning system that reacted to whatever came near. **

**I frowned.**

**I stretched out my arcane senses ever so slowly. The haze started reacting again. Ah. The Merlin truly was a tricky bastard. He'd set the ward not only to react to supernatural presences but to also react to anyone trying to sense its very presence. Your normal wizard would use his senses to detect the ward and try to render it useless, and while he was doing this the Merlin would know someone was out there trying to sneak up on him. Very tricky indeed. I let out a breath. I had been lucky. I had expected such a ward. I had wards much like it around my apartment, after all. But the Merlin was also no fool. He wouldn't bank on one ward to protect him. I knew how he operated. He was very much like the White Court of vampires when it came to how he thought. He wrapped facades in deception and covered them with lies until his opponents couldn't tell up from down and dead from deadly opponent. While most would concentrate on the spectacularly wrought ward and the power behind it they wouldn't concentrate on the many more numerous wards and traps laid about the place…**

"**Fuck!" I cursed and I took heart in the fact that I even had a chance to curse.**

**I whirled around, instinct more than thought guiding my actions. My guns appeared in my hands almost as if by magic and I fired two precise shots, blowing the heads off the Wardhounds even as they jumped towards me. The guns bucked in my hands but I'd had a long time to get used to their immense firepower. It still shocked me that I could single-handedly fire a gun with a range of half a kilometre. The human body wasn't designed like that. I tried not to think about what that meant for me. I didn't stay still and even as I eased the pressure off the triggers I was rolling away, barely managing to avoid the flash of white light that engulfed the space I had previously been occupying. I came up to my feet and couldn't help but notice the odour of ozone that filled the air. I stayed still for about ten seconds before I finally relaxed a little. I let out a slow breath and checked that my veil was still intact. After I sealed off all the holes so that no magic was leaking I shook out my shield bracelet and whispered a phrase in Quasi-Latin. I felt a layer of magic briefly flare to life over me, kind of like a second skin. I stayed put for half a minute longer, my senses seeking out around me. When I was finally sure that I was as safe as I could be, I holstered my guns. I walked up to the door and frowned. The Merlin was a slippery bastard. He never operated with one method in mind. He liked to layer his defences and offences, and not just in the magical sense. After a few centuries of life it wasn't just the magical potential that grew more dangerous in a wizard; the mind that controlled it was also something to be feared. I should know. The Merlin's scheming mind had almost gotten me killed on several occasions. There were usually three layers to anything he did. I had disabled the first two defences. The wards had alerted the Wardhounds to my presence, and I'd had to destroy them to save my life. The second layer, the flash of light, had pinpointed me thanks to the wards I had accidentally tripped. Most people wouldn't even have thought to watch out for it and would have died there and then. But the Merlin hadn't lived this long by being incautious. There was a third part to his defences. What was it…?**

"**You wily bastard," I breathed with a smile of appreciation. I had been expecting flame and destruction, but I had realised that it wasn't the way the Merlin thought. He was better at defence than offence. So what would he do to sense his enemy coming? He would make sure he could pinpoint said enemy. Very few people would have survived the first two attacks. Anyone who did was worthy to be taken alive for later questioning. And so the Merlin had created a Trace that would attach to the intruder, which was the next best thing to possessing a sample of my hair, nails or blood. Even as I used my senses I could detect a layer of magic that had attached to me before I had managed to raise one of my shields. As I inspected it I had a moment to think, "Oh, fuck," before I felt a foreign magic suddenly surround me. I raised my right hand and made a swift cutting gesture, which temporarily halted the spell's progress. I started muttering to myself in Quasi-Latin as I twirled my fingers in gestures. With my left hand I reached into my mouth and scratched my gums so that blood was drawn. I held my bloody index finger in front of my face and a I glared it like it owed me money even as I continued my improvised chant. After a few seconds the blood lifted off my finger, leaving it clean and a blue orb surrounded the droplets. I made another cutting gesture, this time with my left hand and simultaneously jumped to the left. I landed awkwardly, nearly spraining my ankle and rolled onto the ground. A second later there was a brief flash of light and suddenly the orb of light containing my blood disappeared. I was panting somewhat. That little confrontation had taken up a lot of willpower and while the actual magic required hadn't been a lot it still left me feeling exhausted. Coupled with my spirit search earlier I was starting to feel a bit worse for wear. I lay there for a whole minute, just getting my breath back.**

**And that was when I realised that the two Wardhounds were back on their feet and standing guard. I just stared, unable to think of an appropriate response to such an occurrence and saying, "Well, that's new," just seemed inadequate. Wardhounds could regenerate? I filed that nugget of information away in a corner of my mind and slowly stood up, glad that I had managed to keep both my veil and shield up whilst I had been trying to stop the Merlin's defences from teleporting me to God-knows-where. I hadn't had time to see the intricacies of the defence, save that I needed to separate from it and fast. The ward had attached to my personal signature, which was kind of like my magical fingerprints. Once it had attached it would teleport anything with that specific signature to a separate location. I hadn't had time to figure it out but I suspected that location was somewhere within the Nevernever, somewhere where a squad of Wardens armed to the teeth was properly waiting. I drew in a deep breath and steeled myself. I had a feeling it was going to be one of those days.**

**I looked at the door and realised that unless I started throwing my power about, which would announce my presence, I wasn't going to**** get in through this way. Time was running out. The Merlin knew that there were intruders outside the building, which was something, but even so he did not know who they were and where they were coming from. There was a chance that he had a Way into the Nevernever prepared for an emergency exit but the scary fact of the matter was that we didn't know what we were dealing with. The Senior Council had been tracked down, which was nigh impossible due to the fact all six of them together made up one of the deadliest forces of the supernatural world. And furthermore whoever decided to act against the Senior Council was neither stupid nor a weakling because, like I said, they were one of the deadliest forces out there. That meant that this attack had been thoroughly thought out and was going to be carried out with pinpoint precision. Whatever defences and contingency plans the Senior Council had thought up were also likely to be a bust because there was a chance the enemy had found them out. I let out a breath. I did not likely anyone on the Senior Council with the exception of my mentor, Ebenezer McCoy. I got along with Wizard Listens-to-Wind most of the time and the Gatekeeper had proven himself a compassionate and like-minded individual at times, but on the whole the Senior Council made calls I didn't agree with. But despite that they were the leaders of human resistance and them being taken out would only spell trouble. They needed to stay alive and it was my duty both as a Warden and a Wizard to make sure that happened. I had used quite a bit of power already and along with my use of the Sight I could feel a super-migraine coming on. But I suppressed my exhaustion and steeled myself. It definitely was going to be a long day.**

**Still under my veil but without my shield I ran back to my apartment. Within a couple of minutes I was there and I felt my home's guardian spirit scrutinise me somewhat but after a moment the pressure dissipated. I ran to the wall at the end of the corridor and opened up the pocket dimension into the Nevernever. Without preamble I started undressing until I was down to my SpongeBob SquarePants boxers and white vest. I put on a wire mesh t-shirt on top of the vest and wore a black outfit over it; a black mandarin collar button less shirt and black trousers. I put on a black flak jacket I had altered so it could hold some of my wizarding implements when I was going for a fight, which had been a lot during the past few years. I wore dark blue Timberlands and tucked my trousers into them. Finally I altered my holster so I could wear it over the flak jacket without it affecting my movements. Instead of my blasting rod I took my sword cane and bound my staff to the back of my flak jacket. The whole process took ninety seconds tops. When I stepped back into my apartment there was a tall, slim and very attractive girl standing in the middle of my living room with a Gore-Tex bag in hand. Unfortunately not only was she the daughter of one of my best friends but I'd also seen her in training bras so I wasn't allowed to even think of her in that way.**

**Molly, my apprentice, took one look at me and started undressing. I conveniently went to the kitchen to rustle up a quick bite. If you didn't know when your next meal could be it was better to eat when you had the chance. I made a couple of sandwiches and took a couple of coke cans from my cooler, and when I stepped back into the living room Molly was zipping up her own flak jacket which was outfitted slightly differently from mine; we specialised in different branches of magic, after all. I was all bang and boom whilst Molly was more a whole load subtler.**

"**I got your call Obi-Wan," Molly said as she attached a long curved stick to the back of her flak jacket and put on her very own leather duster. It had been my gift for her last birthday and had come equipped with its own enchantments of protection. With the amount of scrapes I got Molly involved in it was only right she shared my protection. "What's up?"**

**A couple of years ago I had asked for Molly's Name and had given her mine in return. Names taken from the owner's lips were very powerful things and were tantamount to having that person's blood or hair. A lot of magic, mostly nasty, could be accomplished with it. It had been a "just-in-case" thing. If I ever summoned Molly in that manner or she summoned me then it was a sign that Something was up and to come with all haste, prepared for trouble.**

"**The Senior Council is a block away and there's a surprise attack about to go down," I said as I sat down on my raggedy couch. Molly blinked at me and sat down next to me, taking her sandwich. A couple of years ago she would have turned down the food but she had learnt that when things were going down it was better to face them on a full stomach. "Ghouls and Sylphs so far, but there's something even nastier definitely on the way. Don't know what."**

**Molly nodded and wolfed down her sandwich faster than I did mine. The energy of youth. Five minutes after I had left the building the Senior Council was in Molly and I were leaving my apartment looking for all the world like we were on our way to some Gothic convention.**

"**How bad is it?" Molly asked. There was a slight tremor in her voice. Despite all the things she had seen and done she was still a kid and sometimes I forgot that. By the time I was her age I'd already grown up. My circumstances didn't allow anything else.**

"**It could be nothing at all," I replied honestly, "or it could be very, very bad indeed."**

**We both knew which one of those options it was.**

"**OK," Molly said. "Let's get this show on the road." **


	7. Chapter 7

**I stood under Molly's veil****, which was just as good as my own, if not even better, and surveyed the area very carefully. I was loath to use my Sight again but I knew that there were some **_**things**_** out there and I needed to be sure of where they were before I made a move. I closed my eyes and shut off my Sight. I swayed a little and had to lean on my sword cane but after a few seconds the dizziness passed. When I opened my eyes Molly was looking at me with a worried expression but she didn't say anything. After a second she looked away, her brow furrowed slightly in an effort to keep her veil in place. I'll say this for her, the little grasshopper was learning.**

"**There are a dozen Sylphs****, veiling just as many ghouls. And these ghouls are huge, bigger than even the ones we encountered in the Raith Deeps." I whistled slowly to myself.**

"**What, what's wrong?" Molly asked slightly apprehensively. I guess she realised it was going to be one of those days too.**

"**There is an army out here," I said softly.**

"**What!" Molly spluttered. Her veil, though, did not even waver.**

"**I have never seen such an assortment of demons together in my entire life," I continued. "There are all manner of demons from the Nevernever out there."**

**Molly's eyes widened. "We can't deal with this on our own," she said. "We need to alert the Wardens…" Molly paused, thinking. Her eyes widened slightly. "How did these people find the Senior Council exactly?"**

"**In my opinion, that is a very good question, young padawan," I replied wisely. I even added a two jerky nods with my eyes half closed. Appearances are everything, after all.**

"**You don't know," Molly stated flatly. "But you think it might have been a leak from within. Not this again."**

"**Don't get carried away now," I said. "We have no way of knowing whether or not it was an inside job. We don't even know what the Senior Council is doing here. For all we know the leak came from someone else."**

"**So what do we do?" Molly asked.**

**I looked at Molly for a second before I asked her, "What do **_**you**_** think we should do?"**

**Molly gaped at me. "Why are you asking me? You're the fearless leader. Lead us to some answers then."**

**I chuckled at the Boondocks reference. "You have to learn to think logically and calmly in times of stress**** Molly. Come on, time isn't on our side."**

**The little grasshopper frowned for a whole half minute before she spoke. "I think we should contact someone we trust in the Wardens and alert them to the situation and then get some backup. With the whole Senior Council here this whole block could be literal dust within minutes so I think we should call Sergeant Murphy and let her in on this; she'll have to deal with it if it goes sour anyway. And finally we should try to take out as many of these demons as possible without raising the alarm to try and even out the odds. Hopefully by the time the action starts the situation will already favour us and we can end it cleanly and quickly."**

"**Good plan," I said with a smile. There was no hurt in giving praise where it was due. "You go make those phone calls and I'll work towards evening up our odds slightly. There's a payphone round the corner."**

**Molly began walking away without another word and I'll be damned if I wasn't proud. She had really grown. She might not be up to slugging it out on her own yet but she was close, very close. I let out a breath and put both hands on my sword cane.**

"**Lash?" I said barely moving my lips.**

"**There are two dozen mortal mercenaries within a hundred yards of this place, my lord," Lash replied seemingly from nowhere. "In addition there are three individuals hidden in different locations pointing audio-video recording devices at the building."**

"**As I thought," I said. "A lot of planning went into this. Someone wants to make damned sure nothing goes wrong."**

"**The part of the Nevernever that corresponds to this place is riddled with demons," Lash added.**

**That made me pause. This was very well planned indeed. There were strikes teams, magical and mundane, ready to rip to shreds anyone who came out of the building. The corresponding location in the Nevernever was likewise riddled with more enemies so the Senior Council couldn't even make a speedy exit that way. I knew they were not stupid so they would have to resort to whatever emergency exit plans they had made. The only thing that didn't make sense was the fact that the building hadn't been stormed already. None of the usual magical beings had trouble with causing a scene in broad daylight – unless they couldn't go out in broad daylight that is. Surely the ward was not that much of a danger. Throw enough bodies at a ward and it will crumble. I understood that more than most. So what was stopping the ambush from commencing?**

"**They are waiting for the Senior Council to leave the building," I said, "but why? Why aren't they attacking?"**

"**They are waiting for something," Lash replied.**

"**What exactly, though?" I didn't like questions I had no answers to. They made me edgy. Just then Molly came back from making her calls. I didn't see or hear or sense her in any way until she touched my left shoulder and expanded her veil to include me.**

"**Bad news, boss," she said and I couldn't help but notice her chest heaving ever so slightly. The sprint to the payphone and back shouldn't have pushed her that far. No, this was an emotional reaction. Her pupils were slightly dilated and her cheeks flushed. I smelt fear.**

"**What's up?" I demanded.**

"**The Hidden Halls are under attack."**

**I think I just looked at her ****dumbly because she actually shook me physically and repeated, "Harry, the Hidden Halls are under attack!"**

"**I heard you, I heard you," I said coming back to myself. "What idiots are stupid enough to attack a fortress that's so well defended only a god could break through?"**

"**I couldn't understand everything because it sounded like pandemonium was breaking out over there but the operator did manage to tell me that the attack was coming from within the Nevernever and from Castle Edinburgh proper. Red Court vampires managed to get into the castle and are fighting their way down whilst another horde is trying to get in from the Nevernever."**

"**So that was the plan," I murmured.**

"**What?" Molly asked.**

"**There are demons and strike teams on the other side, in the Nevernever region of this place too. Looks like the Red Court really thought this one through. It's a double pronged attack on two fronts; separating the Senior Council from the rest of the White Council and then attacking both, simultaneously. This might not destroy the White Council but it will be a crippling blow. The Hidden Halls are well defended, though. The vamps won't get through. We have to concentrate on helping the Senior Council so they get back to Edinburgh in one piece."**

"**Harry, I'm not sure here but I think I heard the receptionist say something about … something about Outsiders…"**

"**Oh, fudge cakes," I muttered. I could have sworn more colourfully but I was a teacher and had to behave properly in front of my apprentice. Besides, Molly's mother Charity would flay me alive for teaching her daughter bad habits. The Red Court had employed Outsiders the last time they had dealt a crippling blow to the Council. One hundred and forty-three Wardens had died in three days of constant battle. Outsiders, servants of the Old Ones, and most of who were ex-gods in their own right, had been banished from our reality long ago and without the Senior Council to help reinforce the defences at Edinburgh the enemy might be able to actually break into the Hidden Halls. Once the Hidden Halls fell, so would the combined resistance of the wizarding community. Oh sure we might be able to gather here and there and give stinging attacks but without a safe headquarters from which to operate we would be finished. That wasn't to mention all the losses we would sustain. Most of the new wardens were nothing but kids who had had a mantle of responsibility thrust upon them. They wouldn't last a second against Outsiders. Hell's bells, I'm not even sure most of them knew what Outsiders **_**were**_**. And if Outsiders had been employed at the Hidden Halls what was to stop them from being employed here? I had used my Sight and knew there were no Outsiders here but they could well be on their way.**

"**Time to act padawan****!"**

"**I'll go take care of the human strike teams," Molly said and was off in a flash. I felt a second's worry at that but decided to trust my apprentice. She knew better than to try mind magic again. My evil twin of a subconscious tried to push doubts into my conscious mind but I swiftly and ruthlessly quashed them. I also realised I had been thinking and referring to him way too many times in such a short period of time but put this paranoia down to another one of his tricks. After all, it is his job to think about my survival. And it's also always much easier to blame someone else. Who is me. **

**Schizophrenia, thy name is Harry Dresden. **

**There were a number of ways to counter the demons, all of them exhausting and dangerous. I could simply fling raw power at them and hope their ectoplasm shells got damaged enough that they returned to whatever part of the Nevernever they resided in. The problem with that plan was that I didn't know what these demons were capable of. They could be the lowest of the low, the grunts, and just take the hit without reacting or they could be demon princes, in which case they would sense the attack coming, and being demon princes, know a lot about magic, including how to shield. Not only would that avenue of action expose my presence but it would also expose my location, leaving me open to a swift and probably deadly counterattack. I could disrupt the magic that was anchoring these demons here and break the connection between the summoner and the demons, but without a conduit to either one I would need a lot of raw power and concentration. Even if I managed to get away with it I could manage five of the strongest demons at best before the exhaustion knocked me out. It still wouldn't be a guarantee of anything because the demons could be powerful enough to resist being called back to wherever they resided within the Nevernever, which would mean there would be five free demons running around Chicago. Beyond those two methods there was no way a single wizard without any major preparation could oust all those demons.**

**Luckily enough I was a one wizard who was **_**always**_** prepared. Ever since I killed my first mentor in a duel I had been thrust into a world that a child – for even at forty-five I was a child, compared to the other powers I came across, which usually had at the very least a couple of centuries on me in just about every way that mattered – had no possible chance of surviving. I had slugged it out with demons of every description, from the pure evil of monsters from deep within the Nevernever to the pure evil of the human soul given access to the fundamental forces of the universe. Everything else in between kind of paled in comparison, but was still dangerous. Hell's bells I had an immortal semi-divine being after me, an order of demons trying to kill me or recruit me, whichever came first, Faerie Queens who either wanted to kill me or turn me into a slave, the greatest hunter who ever existed trying to mount my head on his wall, and not to mention the people that I was meant to protect and the people who were supposed to help me protect them didn't trust me or wanted me dead themselves, so I ended up having to face all of this on my own. Honestly I kind of get why sometimes my name inspires fear in some people. I mean if you look at it on paper I should have died a long time ago. I have been through fights that knocked heavy weights in the first round of the match. It was smart to fear someone like that. But I wasn't that person. Most of those times I'd had considerable help and a lot of luck. But you can't survive forever on those two alone so over the years I'd made several preparations for situations such as these, situations that seemed so out of my depth that it would be smarter to just pretend I'm blind to and keep on walking.**

**After placing my sword cane at my hip ****I reached to the back of my flak jacket, opened the pouch there and slowly drew out a long, curved, bleached white bone. There were runes and sigils etched on the surface but they were so small you'd only know they were there by feeling the shaft. The bone simply looked extremely worn and bumpy, despite being relatively new. That had taken me a **_**long**_** time to finish. Other than the stark whiteness and the etching, there was nothing remarkable at all about my Aboriginal pointing bone. Of course I just called it that because the bone itself did not actually have a name. It had never had, although through my research I had developed the theory that there was a much larger pointing bone in use within the White Council itself. It was called an Aboriginal pointing bone simply because in all of recorded history it was the Aborigines of Australia that had first used it. The theory behind it was simple; the tribe would get together and through a shaman they would focus their thoughts into one single thought; **_**kill**_**. An executioner, a **_**Kurdaitcha**_**, would then track down the tribe's traitors and simply point the bone at them. The combined will of the tribe, focused in the bone, would simply fell the traitor dead. No physical or mental symptoms. He would simply be **_**willed**_** dead. This focus of willpower, of humanity, was one such usage of the bone. You could just as easily, for instance, impregnate the bone with the thought of killing a demon. Demons summoned from the Nevernever couldn't be killed, just sent back to where they came from, but if you concentrated on disrupting their ectoplasm flesh then you could oust them from reality.**

**I held the bone in front of my chest and gripped my right upper arm with my left hand. I expelled one long breath and a blast of air stirred up my duster. I thought about the demons surrounding the building and their images leapt back into my mind as if I was looking at them for the first time. In some ways this was better than having their Names because I wouldn't have to waste time uttering the Names of the beings I was employing the bone against. What they looked like to my Sight was exactly what they were, in much the same was their Names described their personality. I locked onto their identities and the circumscribed pentagrams on my gloves started glowing with faint white light. In that second I knew I had announced my presence to every demon out there and I had perhaps seconds before their survival instincts overcame their curiosity and they started attacking. Luckily a few seconds was all I needed to enact my plan. Power started flowing from the pentagram on my left hand, up the arm, through my belly and back up to my right arm and hand. The intensity of the white light increased exponentially with each second and the demons started letting their veils slip one by one. I didn't pay them any attention but continued drawing in power and channelling it into the pentagram on my right hand glove. After five seconds I stopped as I suddenly developed a **_**pounding**_** migraine and my vision became blurred. I broke the circle containing the power in the pentagram with my will and in a rush, like air filling up a void, the magic was sucked into the pointing bone. It happened so fast that for a second I was just left staring at my creation in something approaching apprehension. That was when the first demon roared from on top of the building the Senior Council was in and jumped towards me. It was ten feet tall and ugly, much like how it had looked to my Sight, but what I wasn't prepared for was the fact that its feet seemed to be made from the same production line as seven league boots and it covered the huge distance between us in one elegant leap. What I was prepared for, however, was a confrontation and I waited right for the second its feet touched the ground, when it was still finding its balance. I aimed right at its heart and let off a short, sharp blast.**

**I hear these days computers have advanced imaging capabilities that allow them to create and animate virtually any scenario. Biologists use them, among other thing, to create animations of the human figure. They start at the bones and then add tissue, organs, muscles and so forth. You've probably seen them at some point, maybe in movies. Now imagine that process in reverse. The skin of the demon seemed to rip away from the focal point of my power and in the blink of eye it was gone, the muscles and so forth following until all that was left was … **_**something**_** I couldn't quite identify, and then that too was gone. The whole process took a second, tops, and it did not take as much out of me as I would have thought, power wise. What did surprise me though was the amount of concentrated willpower and the mental pressure I had to fight against to employ the weapon. It almost seemed as if the bone was working against me, as if I was forcing it to work against its will.**

**And then I noticed the dozens of demons beginning to appear from all around, some of them three times the size of the one I had just destroyed. My knees were beginning to feel like jelly and I was glad I had my glasses on or else the sunlight would have aggravated my migraine to the point where it could have actually incapacitated me. I took calming breaths, going through the exercises Lash had taught me to overcome my body's aches and pains and concentrate on the mission at hand.**

**I was just in time to sense a mass of power hurled at my back. I didn't bother turning around. I wouldn't have enough time. I simply gathered my will and used my shield bracelet to make a concave shield behind me. The mass of power, in the form of fire, hit my shield at an angle, kept flowing and was redirected straight back toward the demon that had cast it. Even as it hit my shield I had already gathered my will again and with two whispered words, "**_**Gravitas, Ventas**_**," I jumped twenty feet into the air. I twirled as I ascended and got a shot off to the demon, which looked like a cross between a gorilla and a wolf. When I reached the zenith of my jump I had already gotten off two more shots and missed being hit by magical attacks three times. I reached into another pouch and produced a clump of five differently coloured crystals. I threw it high up into the air and even as gravity reasserted it's authority over one haggard upstart wizard I chanted, "**_**Veneficus, Orbis**_**." The crystal clump shot twenty feet further into the air before it broke off into five different sections and each crystal sped away in a different direction. When they had gone far enough I exerted my will, which was quickly dwindling, and they stopped. The crystals started glowing, as much a distraction as an operational method; red, green, white, brown and blue. A stream of power extended from one crystal to the next until a humongous glowing circle hung forty feet in the air.**

**Of course whilst this was happening the smarter demons had decided to stop whatever was going to happen at the source, namely me. I landed back onto the ground as the crystals had just broken off and only had time to register an almost human looking demon, about five-eleven with multifaceted red irises and two feet long horns before I got punched in the sternum and flew twenty feet before rolling another twenty on the hard tarmac. Only my duster kept me from being skinned alive. **

"**Impressive movements," the demon said in a silky and echoing voice. "You move like a veteran warrior, with no wasted movement, and your spells are synchronised perfectly with your attacks. I haven't seen such a fighting style in a long time. You are indeed a worthy opponent, Dresden." A snake of fear coiled itself around my heart as I heard the demon say my name. I felt fear because when it had said my name I felt a resonance within my body. It wasn't my Name but it was pretty freaking close. I rose to my feet in a flash, denying my body its right to tremble and heave as it fought to get some oxygen. I controlled my shallow breathing so that I wouldn't start wracking with coughs but even so a few escaped, and I wasn't particular surprised to see some blood fly out. That was one of the most powerful punches I had ever gotten.**

"**And you are?"**** I asked conversationally.**

"**Ah, where are my manners," the demon said as it gave a bow with its head. "You may address me as … Bub. I hear you have a penchant for nicknames."**

**I raised an eyebrow at the demon and simultaneously blasted the demon that had been coming from up above with the pointing bone. "Bub? As in Beelzebub? One of the seven princes of hell? The Lord of the Flies?"**

"**The very same," Bub confirmed with a nod.**

**Which said a fucking lot. Believe me when I say involving biblical figures is never an easy feat. They operate on a whole different spectrum. Someone had actually managed to enrol one of the princes of hell? And then realisation hit me. Bub ran in the same circles as fallen angels.**

"**Fuck," I swore.**

**Bob raised an eyebrow of his own.**

"**I just realised that the Nickelheads might be involved in whatever is going on here, and if not they'll probably show up sometime soon."**

**Bub's brow furrowed momentarily before he chuckled. You'd expect something evil and maniacal but it sounded for the entire world like a hearty chuckle full of joy. "Ah, of course, Anduriel and her ilk."**

**That only scared me even more. Usually I'd have to explain my words to immortal beings, in a very insulting manner, but Bub showed a frightening familiarity with mortal mindsets. He understood the modern man, which could only mean he interacted with humanity on an almost regular basis. What that meant I could figure out later. By then the circle was inscribed in the sky and I needed to act fast. Bub's conversation with me seemed to have taken away the other demons' need to act, and I could understand why. No demon in their right mind would want to mess with one of the princes of hell. I needed to use this lull to complete the ritual.**

"**You don't sound like you like them much," I said.**

**Bub shrugged. "The only thing we have in common is the same master." Bub cocked his head. "I'm sorry we had to meet this way. You would have been so much more useful alive but unfortunately I am being forced to kill you."**

"**By who?"**

**Bub's face gained an angry cast for a second. "I aim to find out."**

**I pointed my bone at him and Bub actually shook his head sadly. "That's a fine specimen of a pointing bone, Dresden, but it won't work on me and my brethren. It doesn't contain the right kind of focus. You'd need to possess knowledge no mortal has in a very long time."**

**That was when I smiled. Bub's eyes narrowed slightly, which was a strange sight to behold. "You mean I'd need knowledge of angelic and demonic script for my magic to have any true effect on you?"**

**Bub's eyes widened and I could see realisation quickly dawning in his eyes. He looked up to confirm his suspicions, and that alone told me he was knowledgeable in the magical arts, and when he saw the thirteen glowing red and black symbols revolving within the circle he actually smiled.**

"**Well I'll be damned," he said.**

"**Indeed you are," I said and pointed the bone at the centre of the circle. A beam of white light erupted from the tip of the pointing bone and immediately the circle started emitting a force akin to gravity. Bub dropped to one knee, his face a grimace of pain.**

"**A worthy foe indeed," he muttered.**

**As I looked around I realised that lesser demons had been destroyed altogether by the force and I felt a moment of pride at my creation. I shook it off after a second and ran forward until I was standing underneath the centre of the circle. I opened myself up to the world and started channelling more power through bone and up into the circle. The glowing intensity of the circle increased and it started emitting a white light that started to burn the demons. The glowing symbols grew and I dropped down to my knees as all my efforts from the past hour combined with the power of this ritual finally beat me. But despite the pain I was in held onto the bone for dear life and channelled as much power as I could without passing out. The glowing of the circle intensified even more and just before I passed out there was a white flash and a rush of noise.**


End file.
